


We Walk With the Devil

by You_are_dead_to_me (Tachiana_Hon_no_Mushi)



Category: Devil Went Down to Georgia - Charlie Daniels Band (Song)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Racism, Minor Angst, This took two years because I'm slow af, nonlinear storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26983237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tachiana_Hon_no_Mushi/pseuds/You_are_dead_to_me
Summary: What if the Devil had come back for that re-match?He yanked the door open, ready to give whoever was on the other side a tongue lashing.He opened his mouth, and froze.The Devil gave him a sharp edged grin, "Johnny, I came back for that rematch."
Relationships: The Devil/Johnny (Devil Went Down to Georgia)
Kudos: 8





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is written in a nonlinear fashion, so little bits and pieces that are told kind of all over the place.

"The devil went down to Georgia," he sang softly, scrubbing dried tomato sauce off another plate. "he was lookin' for a soul to steal, he was in a bind, cause he was way behind," the porcelain clinked as he set it in the drying rack, "and he was willin' to make a deal."

There was a soft thud from outside the open kitchen window, he paused, looking up and peering out into the fading twilight.

Nothing. 

He shrugged and kept washing what was left of the dinner dishes. "When he came upon this young man, sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot," he pulled the last fork out of the murky water. "And the devil jumped, up on a hickory stump, and said 'boy, let me tell you what," 

The silverware clanged as he moved the drying rack out of the sink and onto a towel before pulling the plug on the dirty dishwater. He paused for a breath, drying his hands on the hand towel hanging next to the sink. 

A knock echoed through the house.

He smiled.

"I guess you didn't know, but I'm a fiddle player too, and if you'd care to make a dare, I'll make a bet with you." He grinned a little as he sang, making his way out of the kitchen and into the hall.

"Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil his due." He absently leaned down to pick up a frilly skirt and a pair of socks, tossing them into the living room on his way.

"I'll bet a fiddle of gold, against your soul, cause I think I'm better than you.'" He reached the front door, and started pulling it open, "The boy said, ‘My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet, and you're gonna regret, 'cause I'm the best that's ever been.’" 

A man stood on the doorstep, he had gold eyes and a sharp smile, he extended a hand as soon as the door opened.

Johnny smiled, leaning his cheek into the touch. The frost limned man's sharp edged smirk softened into something almost fond.

"The best that's ever been indeed," his smirk grew, "not many can beat the devil after all."


	2. Part Two

He hummed quietly in the shadowed room, face buried in the neck of his Devil. Running his fingers along the ridges of his ribs, calloused fingertips scratching lightly on the skin.

A cold hand brushed over his buzzed head, before falling to his neck, "You didn't finish." Johnny paused in his languid humming.

"Finish what, love?" He asked softly, pulling up slightly to meet those gold eyes. Which were currently being rolled at him.

Johnny felt the brief inhale before his lover started singing, "Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard," Johnny smiled and tucked himself back into the Devil's neck, content to listen. 

"'Cause hell's broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards," a hand started loosely stroking down his back, "And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold, But if you lose, the devil gets your soul. The devil opened up his case, and he said, 'I'll start this show.'" 

The hand briefly dipped to his lower back, "And fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow, and then he pulled the bow across the strings," Johnny snorted, and the hand gave him light pinch in retribution. "It made an evil hiss, and a band of demons joined in. And it sounded something like this,"

He made a vague imitation of what a fiddle might have sounded like had it been a dying cat. Johnny burst out laughing, shoulders shaking while the Devil continued singing, ignoring the outburst he'd caused.

"When the devil finished Johnny said," Johnny was still giggling into the Devil's neck, ignoring the light pinches he was littering down his back. "'Well, you're pretty good, old son. But sit down in that chair right there. And let me show you how it's done.'" 

Johnny sighed, pulling back slightly to stick a hand over the Devil's mouth. He was leveled with a glare that would have stopped many a man's heart.

Johnny smirked, before glancing to the side to check the bedside clock, "Love, it's 3am," he pulled the Devil after him as he rolled to the side, "sleep." 

The Devil rolled his golden eyes, pulling his human lover close. Before grumbling, "I don't sleep."

Johnny snorted, "Sure, Love, and you don't snore either." There was silence for a moment.

Before there was another soft grumble. "Do not."


	3. Part Three

Johnny groaned as the bed bounced, jostling his head off his lover's chest and into his armpit. 

"Daddy!" Johnny pressed his face into the mattress. "Daaaaddy! I know you're awake!" Abruptly all the air was compressed out of him.

He gasped, his daughter had landed squarely on his back. One knee in the Devil's chest, the other knee dug into his ribs.

"I want waffles! Get up! Up!" She crowed, before there was an indignant squawk, and her weight was lifted off of him.

Johnny took a deep inhale before finally sitting up, only pausing a moment to make sure he'd actually put on boxers.

He was met by the sight of his daughter trapped on the Devil's chest, wild curly hair in her face as she glared at him, and he glared back.

"Lemme go, Cy." Johnny snorted, the Devil's golden eyed glare turned on him briefly, before returning to its original target. 

"I do not appreciate being woken by a knee to the chest." He informed her icily, gaze chilly.

She poked him in the nose.

"But I want waffles." Her formerly scowling face twisted into sad puppy dog eyes, "And I'm huuungry, Cy." She whined.

Johnny slid off the bed, leaving them to their negotiations as he looked for a shirt, listening idly as his six year old argued waffles over pancakes.

He finally fished out a reasonably warm, oversized flannel that he thought might have once belonged to his father, and pulled it on, turning back to the bed as he buttoned it.

They were still arguing, and Johnny smiled, "I'm not the only one who can best the Devil, hm?" He said quietly as he crawled back onto the bed.

His daughter gave him a gap-toothed grin, "We're having waffles!" She cheered excitedly, before pouting momentarily, "but Cy doesn't want strawberries."

She looked genuinely put out about it. A cold hand slid across the back of his neck, gripping lightly, and he looked away to meet the eyes of the Devil. 

Who gave him a very serious look. "I bought blueberries." His voice brooked no argument. Johnny burst out laughing, dropping his head onto the bed.

When he could finally breathe, he looked up at the judging eyes of the two people he loved the most. "I can," he stressed the word, "make both," he met his daughter's eyes, "and not a word out of you, Maia, strawberries are not naturally superior."

She gaped at him, before scrambling off the Devil's chest to point her tiny finger in his face, "Take it back, daddy!" She shook her head hard enough that her curls bounced, "Strawberries are the best!"

Behind her the Devil began to laugh.

***

By the time they made it into the kitchen the sun was fully up, and the blinking stove clock read ten.

Johnny listened as Maia argued with the Devil himself.

This time the subject was which Saturday cartoon was the best, and which one they would get to watch this morning. He smiled softly to himself while he shuffled things out of the way to get the flour.

After a few more minutes of listening to his daughter list the merits of Tom and Jerry, he dusted off a hand and turned the radio on.

He promptly snorted as a song started playing, closer to the end than the middle. "Fire on the Mountain, run, boys, run. The Devil's in the house of the rising sun."

Johnny took a breath and started singing along, "Chicken in the bread pan a pickin out dough, Granny does your dog bite, 'No, child, no'," he poured batter into the waffle pan, spreading it even before shutting it.

"The Devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat. And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet." He pulled the blueberries and strawberries, as promised, out of the fridge, setting them on the counter as the pan beeped.

"Johnny said, 'Devil, just come on back If you ever want to try again, I done told you once, you son of a bitch,'" he sang the last part in counterpart to the radio, it proudly said, 'son of a gun,' not the way he'd written it.

Johnny cut the waffle into four, placing two each on the plates sitting on the counter. "'I'm the best there's ever been,' He played, Fire on the Mountain, run, boys, run. The Devil's in the house of the rising sun," he poured more batter into the pan.

"Chicken in the bread pan a pickin out dough, Granny will your dog bite, 'No, child, no'," a voice he knew almost better than his own joined him for the last lyrics.

"The Devil's in the house of the rising sun," the voice repeated softly into his ear, the sound of his daughter's shrieking laughter joined in as the last of the music faded.


	4. Part Four

"Maia," he said softly, kneeling in front of the blanket fort, "baby, tell me what's wrong?"   
  
There was a sniffle, and a small hand peeked out through the layered fleece blankets, he reached out and gently took it.   
  
The hand tugged him forward.   
  
Johnny gave a small internal groan, full grown men were not made to curl into child size blanket forts.   
  
He crawled in anyway, carefully moving blankets aside as he went through, careful not to crush Maia's hand as he went.   
  
She was curled onto her side on the rug, wild hair half smooshed against her cheek, and the other half sticking almost straight up where she'd probably been pulling on it.   
  
He sighed, "Can you tell me what's wrong?" She sniffled again, and shook her head.   
  
Johnny carefully stroked her curls down, she was ten now, and entering a stage where he wasn't quite sure what to do.   
  
He missed his baby girl who would tell him everything under the sun. But at least she was letting him be there.   
  
After a little while, Maia's voice broke the silence, it sounded creaky from crying. "Can you sing me my song?" she sniffed slightly before pulling herself up until she was half-lying in his lap, looking up at him.   
  
Johnny gave her a small smile, "'Course," he leaned down and kissed her forehead before he started singing. "It's been ten long years since the devil laid his fiddle at Johnny's feet. And it burned inside his mind the way he suffered that defeat."   
  
Maia curled further into his stomach, her face obscured by her curls, "In the darkest pits of hell the devil hatched an evil plan. To tempt the fiddle player for he's just a mortal man," Johnny started gently stroking a hand down her back.   
  
"'The sin of pride,' the devil cried is what will do you in," Johnny's back was starting to ache, he had curled slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling of the blanket fort, "'I thought we had this settled, I'm the best there's ever been.'"    
  
"Johnny did you ever know that time keeps marching on. The coldest hour is the one comes just before the dawn," Maia's breathing was finally evening out, losing the quiet hitch.   
  
"The devil's back in Georgia will you stand up to the test. Or will you let the devil be the best?" Singing half-curled with a little girl squished into your stomach wasn't the best idea ever, and Johnny's throat was just starting to ache when the soft slide of the bedroom door being opened filtered into the room.   
  
_ Speak of the Devil _ . Johnny paused in his singing, waiting for the soft rustle of blankets being moved to the side, and the brief flash of light that would cut through the semi-darkness.   
  
Gold eyes and a shock of white hair peeked into the blanket fort, the Devil's face contorted in a slight frown.   
  
He gave Johnny a questioning look, which he answered with a half shrug. Waiting as the Devil himself crawled forward on his hands and knees, carefully positioning himself behind Johnny, jostling Maia slightly.    
  
She gave a half-hearted whine of complaint. Once Johnny's back was situated into something that could almost be called straight, the Devil's knees on either side of him, he continued singing.   
  
"'In truth I haven't played much since the baby came in June. But give me half a minute an' I'll get this fiddle back in tune,'" a voice slightly deeper than his own joined in for the next verse.   
  
"The devil grabbed the golden fiddle out of Johnny's hand and said, 'Though I'm the fiddle player underground and walk upon the land," A cold hand settled on Johnny's chest, chill easily felt through his thin t-shirt.   
  
"Y'all just better be just turnin' back if you want this boy to win. 'Cos practice is the only cure for the predicament he's in,'" the hand on his chest started tapping to the tune, almost making him snort.   
  
He was still stroking Maia's back, and one hand was in her hair, he tried to suppress his laughter, "'Now devil it would be a sin for you to get my bow. You go on back to hell and to the woodshed I will go,'" Maia squirmed in his lap, making them both pause.   
  
She flipped over in Johnny's lap, forcing him to move his hands. Frowning up at both of them, eyes rimmed red.   
  
Johnny and the Devil looked at her in mild confusion. Maia squirmed up until she had her back to Johnny's chest, mirroring their position, before she reached back and pulled Johnny's arms over herself, and sneaking one arm back and tugging on the Devil's arm.   
  
Johnny felt the slight pause before the Devil wrapped both of them in his arms, resting his cheek against Johnny's head.   
  
Maia's voice broke the moment of warm silence, "Keep going." Her voice was less crackly, but held the faintest note of pleading.   
  
Johnny and the Devil took a breath as one, "Johnny are you practising or will your hands grow cold? The devil walks the land and plays a fiddle made of gold,"   
  
Maia's voice joined their's, slightly weaker and a little off key, but still there. "Can you hear the babe a crying, will she ever know, the devil wants her daddy's very soul?"    
  
Cyriacus's chest felt tight, he was sitting here holding his whole world. Even eight years later, he wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the feeling.   
  
"Before we play I want to thank you for letting God's own Word ring true   
He said you can't be trusted,'" Maia's voice broke into soft giggles, and Johnny smiled.   
  
"'Yes, but what you gonna do? Well you get your fiddle devil if you think that you can win, 'Cos I beat you once you old dog and I can whip your ass again.'" Maia was humming softly now instead of singing, sounding sleepier by the second.   
  
"John Brown's green, the devil is red, Mama's little baby loves shortnin' bread, the devil's dream is that he can win," Johnny paused, letting the Devil sing the last line.   
  
It always gave him a feeling of satisfaction hearing him sing it.    
  
"But Johnny is the best that's ever been."    
  
A cold nose nuzzled behind his ear, before the Devil's voice echoed slightly in his ear, "You know I have a name." His tone was faintly accusing, as if he knew that Johnny still referred to him as the Devil in his thoughts.   
  
Maia sighed, "Cy, Daddy calls you by your name." Though her voice tilted up slightly at the end, questioning.    
  
Cyriacus snorted. "Not in his head, love. Hasn't changed it in ten years."    
  
Maia turned slightly in their arms to meet Cyriacus's gaze, "What does he call you then?" She asked curiously.    
  
Cyriacus gave her a smile, "He calls me 'His Devil'." Maia wrinkled her nose at him.   
  
"But you're mine too!"   
  
And the Devil laughed.


	5. Part Five

One has a past, a past that won’t be spoken.

***

Johnny stormed out of the house, slamming the screen door behind him, ignoring the calls of his name. He stalked into the woods bordering the house, ignoring the clear cut path and weaving through the trees instead. Dodging the branches that caught on the fiddle case slung over his shoulder.

Eventually he ended up in a wide field, still in the middle of being cleared, half of it already fenced. Johnny ran a hand over his newly buzzed head before swinging the case off his shoulder and onto a hickory stump.

He took a breath, snapping it open, and gently pulling out a tarnished, slightly battered, fiddle. He idly ran his fingers over the scratches, and fading carving along the sides, just for a moment.

Then he set the fiddle to his chin, and pulled the bow from the case as well.

And he started to play.

***

The Devil was bored.

Simple as that.

Humanity as of late hadn’t been much fun, there were still the murderers, the thieves, the vagabonds, the usual lot. But recently they had started blaming  _ him  _ for making people do these things. It made him rather frustrated really. He just  _ collected  _ them. He didn’t  _ do _ anything to them really, mostly he shut them up in the icy parts of hell and put their souls to sleep. 

And only the truly evil ones at that. 

So here he was, in Georgia, looking for a soul that had escaped, and sulking. No Angel had taken over his post in millennium, which meant that everything that went wrong in Hell was  _ his  _ fault, and therefore his problem.

So yes. He was sulking. 

After a few more minutes of shoving aside branches, and being whipped in the face for his efforts, he finally made it out of the woods that his contacts had led him to believe the lost soul was in, incorrectly as far as he could tell (a mistake they would pay for). 

Then he heard a sound that made the Devil himself pause.

He took a breath.

He hadn’t heard a fiddle player that good in the past two centuries.

Cyriacus grinned. It was time to go have some...fun.

  
  


***

  
  


Johnny opened his eyes as he played the last notes of the Devil’s Dream, only to be startled badly enough he almost dropped the fiddle, and his bow went flying from his fingertips.

A man with a shock of white hair, and  _ gold  _ eyes stood meer feet away from him. Staring at him intently. Johnny’s breath caught in his throat.

Then the man  _ grinned. _

Johnny’s blood ran cold, and his chest felt tight. The man’s grin grew, “A fearful one you are, hm?” he stepped closer, and it took everything Johnny had to not step backward. The golden eyes narrowed for a moment, “Braver than you appear.”

Johnny opened his mouth, and shut it again before finally stuttering, “W-who are you?” his voice broke on the last syllable, his hand was starting to sting with how hard he was gripping the fiddle. The man frowned, looking disappointed.

“I’m the  _ Devil. _ ” Johnny gaped at him, then the ridiculousness of the statement caught up with him. Johnny’s laugh held an edge of hysteria to it.

“You think you’re the Devil?” Johnny snorted, “Where’s all your fire and brimstone then?” The golden eyed man’s face darkened further. Johnny felt a sudden chill run over him, and he flinched when the grass crunched as the man stepped forward.

“I am Lucifer, the Morning Star, what you,” he looked disgusted, “ _ mortals,  _ think of reality is no business of mine,” he took another step, “but you, you interest me.” 

The gold eyes flashed, “What do you say to a game?”


	6. Part Six

Johnny gasped for breath, holding the bow loosely in his grip. His fingers stung, and his shirt felt soaked through with sweat. 

And he felt exhilarated.

He grinned, wide enough it almost looked more like he was baring his teeth.

That had been  _ amazing.  _

The man who called himself the Devil looked just as exhilarated, and was grinning back at him, golden fiddle still resting on his shoulder.

Johnny had the sudden urge to stick his fingers in that shock of white hair, press his mouth to the sweat slick collarbones peeking through the sheer white t-shirt.

He shook himself, “Well, Devil-man, I think you owe me something,” the Devil threw his head back and laughed.

“That I do, Johnny,” he took the golden fiddle from his shoulder, grin not fading a bit, “I owe you quite a lot,” the grin sharpened, “you've just made my century.”

Johnny snorted, still panting slightly, “Well, you made my year.” He finally took his own fiddle off his shoulder, turning slightly to gently place it back in the battered case, he paused before sticking the bow beside it, "Feel free to come back for a rematch." He added casually.

A hand gripped his shoulder, shocking him with the sudden chill. He flinched slightly, the hand was quickly withdrawn, and Johnny turned to meet gold eyes.

The Devil gave him a small smirk, hooking cold fingers under Johnny's chin, he swallowed hard. Breath catching in his throat.

Cold lips pressed to his, surprisingly gently and close mouthed, when they pulled back Johnny found himself chasing after them.

There was a soft chuckle, “Thank you, for the fun, but a deal's a deal.” cold metal was pressed into Johnny's palm, then he was gone.

Johnny stood in the middle of the half-cleared field, sunlight already fading, and he looked down at the golden fiddle.

God, the acoustics were going to be terrible when it was played by a mere mortal.

Johnny grinned, breathless. If he could beat the Devil, then he could be a goddamned fiddle player for living.


	7. Part Seven

Johnny cursed as he stared at the blank paper, he'd had the tune stuck in his head for weeks, but no matter what he did he just...couldn't write it down.

Groaning, he stood up and reached for the fiddle, not the new one that sat in it's shiny case, or the gold fiddle that sat next to it, but  _ his  _ fiddle.

He took a breath, and just started to play.

***

When he finally stopped, he had a feeling he wouldn't have an issue writing it down. He smiled to himself, the lyrics had come to him while he played, and he knew it was going to be great.

Just great.

***

Johnny stared at the tiny bundle in his arms, the baby within nestled in the crook of his elbow, downy, dark hair pasted to it's little forehead.

He took a sharp breath, the little girl in his arms was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Sir?” he looked up, a woman in blue scrubs stood in front of him, looking mildly confused. “I was told I'm supposed to walk you through the care of a newborn?” she looked unsure, as if this wasn't something she'd had to do before.

He supposed it wasn't. 

Most people weren't called two days before their daughter's due date, and not only informed that they had a daughter, but that the mother didn't want her.

He have her the best smile he could muster up, “Yeah, yeah that would be appreciated.”

  
  


***

She wouldn't stop crying. He’d tried burping her, walking with her, rocking her.

He’d checked her temperature, her ears, even made sure she didn't have any air bubbles in her stomach.

Nothing.

It was 3am, he hadn't had more than two hours of sleep before she'd woken up crying again, he was so  _ tired.  _

He finally gave in and did the only thing left that he could think of. “ _ The Devil went down to Georgia, He was looking for a soul to steal _ ,” his voice was hoarse and tired, but after the first line she went quiet.

Oh, thank God.

Johnny took a breath and kept singing, hoping that she would go back to sleep soon.

Because if he had to survive one more night with a squalling infant he was going to go jump out the window.

  
  


***

  
  


She was standing on his doorstep. She looked tired, and desperate.

Johnny stared at her, he was wearing a shirt that he couldn't remember the last time he'd washed, his jeans were stained, and he still had wood polish on one cheek.

She gave him a weak smile, “I want to see my baby.” her voice quivered slightly, and a little strangely.

Johnny took a breath. It'd been two months. Two months of squalling, no sleep, nights spent crying himself.

Two months of watching with fascination as this tiny thing grew, and moved, and  _ laughed.  _

“Tell me why.”

And that had not been what he'd been trying to say.

She looked stricken, “I... I just didn't think I could handle it, I was...I was on my own.” Johnny stared at her.

“I was there. You,” he scowled, “you left me.” he took a deep, calming breath. “I could have been there, I...” he trailed off, watching her eyes fill with tears.

“I would have taken her no matter what.” He finished softly.

She pressed a hand to her face, “So can I see her?” 

Johnny looked at her, “I don't know, it depends,” her face fell, “are you gonna stay, for her?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. Johnny shook his head, “Then no.” She started to look angry. And Johnny held up a hand.

“She needs a mother.” her face twisted, “Who's going to be there, who's not going to leave.” 

He watched her quietly, “I wouldn't have cared if you wanted to go to college, I would have stayed.” He paused, “I wouldn't have even needed you to be with me.”

She looked furious, “Fuck you! You're never going to be anything but a failure.” She sneered, “I only came because I felt guilty anyway!” 

She turned on her heel and left. Johnny flinched when the car door slammed. Slumping against the door frame he sighed as the crying started in the background.

Eighteen was too young for this shit.


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ay, the chapter the summary comes from!

Johnny sighed as he slumped in the rocking chair by the crib, he'd finally gotten Maia to take a nap, she was six months and already had an opinion on everything.

He rocked himself slightly with one foot, humming a half tune to himself, lyrics just out of reach.

Just as he was about to get up, to write something down or to play he didn't know, the doorbell rang.

He cursed. It couldn't be his mother, she had a key, and knew better. To his right Maia was already waking up as the doorbell rang again, her little face scrunching in a prelude to a cry.

He hurriedly lifted her out of the crib, setting her on his chest, her ear against his heart.

The doorbell rang again.

Maia reached up and tugged his ear. He winced, carefully prying her tiny hand off his earlobe before shifting her to his hip.

The doorbell rang  _ again.  _

Johnny gritted his teeth, "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm coming." He hissed to himself, taking quick steps out of the nursery, wincing as Maia dug her nails into the skin on his back. 

By the time he'd walked the ten feet to the front door, the doorbell had rung twice more, and Maia had left at least three bruises and a variety of nail marks across his upper back and chest.

He hadn't quite managed to explain the concept of  _ ow  _ to a six month old.

He yanked the door open, ready to give whoever was on the other side a tongue lashing.

He opened his mouth, and froze.

The Devil gave him a sharp edged grin, "Johnny, I came back for that rematch."


	9. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite parts to write :)

"Uh." Johnny said.

"Duh-bah," added Maia.

The Devil raised an eyebrow, "You did offer one, no?"

Johnny stared at the man he had written off as what might have been a hallucination. He opened his mouth before closing it again.

"Yes...?" he offered after a second, "uh, I have to put her down for a nap?" both of the Devil's eyebrows raised this time. 

"Then I see no reason why I can't wait inside." Johnny stared at him again, the Devil's mouth twitched, "Or I can stand out here, where all your neighbors can see?"

Johnny winced, "Yeah, um, come in," he backed away from the open door, struggling slightly to keep Maia on his hip as she tried to inspect their visitor.

"So, uh, look," Johnny said, "I haven't really been playing since Maia was born, and my contract with the record company only really wants me to write music," he paused as the Devil shut the door behind him, backing up several more steps so that they wouldn't touch. "I'm really not sure..."

The Devil gave him a blank stare. "You," he paused as Maia shrieked over him, making grabby hands. Johnny baulked, shifting her as she lunged forward.

"Uhm." The Devil gave Maia a strange look, then held his arms out expectantly.

Johnny stared at him. He felt like he was doing that a lot at the moment. He hesitantly handed his daughter over.

_ To the Devil.  _

Who set her on his hip and bounced her, to which she squealed happily and promptly reached for his hair. The  _ Devil  _ was standing there allowing his daughter to tug on his hair.

"Uh." Johnny said. 

The Devil gave him a strange look, before going back to entertaining his  _ daughter.  _ He had just handed his daughter to the Devil, oh dear God. Johnny made a slightly aborted movement towards them, before stilling.

"...Do you want water or something?" he offered after a second, grasping for anything to say other than, 'please give me my daughter back, I don't know what I was thinking'. The Devil gave him another strange look, like he couldn't quite understand what Johnny was thinking. 

That made Johnny pause, oh dear God, could he hear what he was thinking?

The Devil smirked, shifting Maia to his other hip, "Most of it, yes, but you project very loudly." 

Johnny promptly stuck that into the very back of his brain, "So, living room?" he pointedly did not meet the Devil's gaze. 

Well, it wasn't like Maia was going to sleep now anyway.

***

Johnny watched awkwardly as the Devil sat down on the carpet, carefully settling Maia in his lap. Who promptly stuck her thumb in her mouth and leaned back, perfectly content.

Maia was only ever  _ content _ if he was singing, feeding her, or doing both.

Otherwise she was a tiny ball of demanding, incessant energy.

Johnny hesitantly sat on the floor in front of them, watching his daughter hum and giggle to herself, now playing with one of the Devil's hands, said Devil twitching his fingers at random intervals, much to her delight.

The Devil met Johnny's eyes, and gave him a...surprisingly soft smile. Maia gave a happy gurgle, sticking the Devil's fingers in her mouth.

Johnny winced.

The Devil didn't even flinch.

Maia giggled.

***

By the time Johnny had managed to persuade Maia to sleep, 11 o'clock had since gone and past, she had been far too hyped up about the Devil's presence.

Johnny sighed as a slipped out of the nursery, he hated leaving her to sleep alone. He knew that the nurse had encouraged him to let her sleep alone, and to just let her cry things out, but Johnny had never been able to.

It just felt...cruel.

A snort came from behind him, "That would be because it is," Johnny turned towards the Devil in surprise, "but you should avoid sleeping with a comforter, or big pillows."

Johnny blinked. His bed had always been utilitarian, and he had issues with overheating, there very rarely was anything more than a top sheet and a light blanket on his bed, no matter the time of year. 

The Devil gave him an approving nod. 

Johnny narrowed his eyes at him, "Why does the  _ Devil,"  _ Johnny can't quite keep the incredulous tone from his voice, "know so much about babies?"

The Devil gave him a look, "I'm an immortal being with centuries on this earth." He stated this like it should explain it all.

Johnny stared at him.

The Devil caved. "Fine, I've been...curious. Watching you was more entertaining than wandering Hell."

Johnny blinked.

Then nodded.

"Alright, then... how about that rematch?"


	10. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maia is getting big already... and poor Johnny.

_ Johnny groaned, cold lips slid down his throat, nipping at his collarbone. A hand gripped his waist, shoving the t-shirt out of the way as it slid up his chest. The hand tangled in his hair tugged lightly, pulling another moan from deep in his chest.  _

_ The teeth that had been leaving gentle love-bites up and down his neck suddenly bit down harshly, and he let out a strangled whimper, one hand uncurling from the Devil's rumpled dress shirt to yank at his hair sharply in semi-reprimand. Lips met his again, coaxing his mouth open, pressing him harder against the wall.  _

Then the wailing started. Johnny jerked his head sharply off the pillow, morning light spilled through the open curtains, and next to him a very grumpy Maia was making her morning complaints known. Johnny sighed a little, shoving the sheet down off his waist, sitting up before picking up the whining baby. 

7 months and she still had no issue waking him up at 6am sharp almost every morning. Johnny gently set her on his chest, rocking her slightly and patting her back as he shuffled to get off the bed, stumbling slightly over to the changing table. 

Maia calmed slightly as he changed her diaper, giggling a little as he made faces at her. Eventually she got bored as he attempted to button the snaps on her onesie while still half-asleep and attempted to roll out of his reach, tiny arms stretching to the side.

Whatever. Undone snaps weren't gonna kill her. He set her on his hip, ignoring her whining and wiggling attempts to get down. By the time she had regressed to whacking his chest in a truly grumpy fashion he had made it to the living room, gently setting her down in the playpen. She gave him a sulky look, and proceeded to crawl over to her stuffed lion. 

Coffee was next. Otherwise there would be two grumpy toddlers in the house. 

***

By the time he had poured coffee into a sufficiently large mug, pulled breakfast from the fridge, fed them both, and changed another diaper, he was ready to go back to sleep.

But everytime he closed his eyes, all he would see was gold. 

A month had passed since the Devil had come and taken him up on his offer of a rematch, and the date was drawing nearer. At Johnny's confession of having not  _ truly  _ played in quite some time, the Devil had given him a month. 

Johnny had never really been able to put his fiddle down, but with the rematch looming over his head, it felt like it hadn't left his hands except for sleep and Maia. Right now he was giving his hands a break, years old callouses ached, his wrists were slightly sore, and by God his shoulders hurt.

He grinned. It was the best he'd felt since... he didn't even know. He felt like himself again. It was...nice. Maia's delighted laugh drew him out of his reverie, he lifted his head from the back of the couch, and froze. 

She was standing. On her own. And taking a wobbly step forward from the middle of the playpen. Johnny stood quickly, going to stand at the edge of the white bars.

"Oh my God, hey, baby." He reached into the playpen, holding out his arms, "Can you come to daddy?" He held his breath as she took the few wobbly steps into his arms, he lifted her up from the playpen grinning from ear to ear and spun her around. 

"You were walking! All on your own!" She giggled and shrieked as he spun one more time. Gently he set her on her feet and backed away a little, "Can you come over here?" She giggled at him and wobbled over into his arms. 

He rubbed their noses together gently, "Let's go call Grammy, huh? Tell her all about it?" Maia whacked him gently on the cheek. He grinned the entire way to the phone. 


	11. Part Eleven

The next time the Devil arrived at his door, Maia was able to toddle over to greet him (though Johnny was still having considerable internal conflict over the Devil holding his toddler). The man(?) seemed as content as ever to entertain her, no matter Johnny's own thoughts on the matter. The Devil was humming softly under his breath and idly shifting Maia to his hip before Johnny remembered why, exactly, he was here.

"Didn't we make a deal?" He asked, a faint hint of teasing slipping into his tone. The Devil actually looked startled for a second, before he huffed out an almost audible breath.

"The Devil never breaks a bargain." He responded, slowly slipping a surprisingly quiet Maia off his hip to give to Johnny. Johnny gave him a grin that stretched ear to ear as he took his daughter back, he was excited. 

The Devil's gold eyes seemed to gleam. 

Johnny left to set up Maia's play-pen in the backyard, Maia propped on his hip, she was happy enough on early summer afternoons to bask in the sun and listen to Johnny play. This afternoon would most likely be no different. 

The Devil followed him from the living room into the backyard, taking the play-pen from him and setting it up, Johnny was surprised enough by the turn of events to let him. The Devil snapped his fingers, and was holding a fiddle. 

A gold one, identical to the one that Johnny had won so many years ago. Johnny eyed it, "You know I don't want another one of those, right?" he questioned quizzically, the Devil's gold eyes lit on him.

"What do you want, Johnny?" 

Johnny paused as he set his daughter in the grass. "I want you to come play the fiddle with me again." He said, the request slipping past his lips before he really had time to think it through. This time, surprise was blatant on the Devil's face, gold eyes wide. 

The Devil blinked.

"If that is what you wish."


	12. Part Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't condone starting school wide chaos as a response to bullying.... (what am I even saying? of course I do. Go nuts. Start a food fight, paint exists for a reason, do it all).

It was the little voice in his ear, the one deep in his heart. The one that would most likely never leave. The one that was always whispering.

_ "You're worth less. Worthless."  _

It was the one that he had tried his hardest to ignore. 

But it always crept in during the worst times, the days he couldn't help but think it was true. 

Like now, sitting in the principles office of his daughter’s school, with a woman who was giving him a sneer that had that little voice coming rapidly to the fore.

_ "Worthless."  _

"Your daughter,  _ sir,  _ has punched a fellow student in the face, started a cafeteria wide brawl,  _ and  _ left a considerable amount of property damage in her wake." 

He winced. 

"I haven't," he started, before the woman abruptly cut through what he was attempting to say.

"I think you will find," the sneer came back full force, "that your daughter will no longer have a placement in this school as-" Her voice cut off as a particularly familiar, almost chillingly cold voice cut through her office. 

Quite loud enough to hear through the closed office door.

Johnny sighed in relief. 

The door swung open to reveal the Devil himself. Gold eyes sent slight chills down Johnny's spine, even after years of exposure, seeing borderline rage flicker through them was no less than terrifying. 

Which of course meant it was about ten times that for someone who had indeed, never angered the Devil. The woman's sneer had already fallen away, her face blanched to the point that she looked rather ill. It seemed that she took a moment to muster her courage, still quite pale, and stupidly decided to speak.

"And who are you?" Even half terrified out of her wits, she still managed to sound smarmy. Johnny winced. The Devil's mouth drew thin. 

"I am Maia's father." Johnny could hear about ten levels of hell freezing over with Cyriacus' tone. There was a moment of incomprehension as the woman obviously attempted to process this new information before a mix of realization and  _ disgust  _ crossed her face. 

Before she even had a chance to speak, Cyriacus' voice cut across the room. "It is my understanding that you were aware of the continuous bullying, abuse, and general disregard of my daughter's well-being in your," his voice dripped with condescension, "well respected, bully-free school." 

The principal's face was rapidly going from pale to a bright, angry red. 

The Devil simply continued, particularly unfazed by the woman's increasing anger, "As I think we both know, Maia's judgment with how to deal with such a situation was a tad off, though not uncalled for, and as such I am now removing her from this school."

Gold eyes leveled with the now apcoleptic woman, "And a rather lengthy, detailed complaint about how you handle such situations shall be sent promptly to the school board." 

Mouth still opening and closing like a gasping fish, the Devil turned to Johnny and helped him from the chair where he'd been frozen in a mix of relief, and shock. Leaning into Cyriacus, Johnny allowed him to lead him from the room. 

***

Sitting in the hall, his thirteen year old daughter was covered in head to toe with food debris, and sporting a rather spectacular amount of... fluorescent green paint? All down her front. Johnny sighed, pulling away from his partner's side to kneel in front of his daughter. 

Looking imploringly into rather angry, bright blue eyes, Johnny grasped for something to say that wasn't, "Why? Wouldn't you tell me what was going on, why wouldn't you let me,"  _ let us,  _ "protect you?"

What came out was, "Where, in the world, did the paint come from?" A fierce, blinding grin that came from no one but the Devil himself flashed across his,  _ their _ , daughter's face. 

In an obviously prideful voice, Maia said, "I stole it from the stuck up art teacher and used it to start the food fight." A distinct snort of amusement came from behind them, and Maia looked up to grin at Cyriacus as well, with just enough of a glitter in her eye that said exactly how proud of herself she was. 

Johnny couldn't help but laugh, letting his forehead thunk lightly on his daughter's knee. His partner's cold hand settled on his shoulder, "Come on now, let's...go home, and," he paused, looking rather thoughtful, "perhaps homeschooling would be the wisest choice for now." 

Maia cackled, as Johnny's sigh could in no doubt be heard in several other realms besides their own.


	13. Part Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end at last! Good Omens references abound

The day the 13th Devil of hell retired was quite the spectacle, first off, no Angel had been sent to replace him, and secondly, it had been quite abrupt and to the point.

***

The Devil sighed. Why, the bloody Angels insisted that an  _ escalator  _ was an acceptable mode of transport rather than, say,  _ an elevator _ was beyond him.

But he had had his secretaries send a rather ridiculous amount of emails, then  _ letters,  _ and when all hope seemed beyond his poor secretarial staff,  _ office memos _ . 

All to no avail, as it seemed that not a single celestial being wanted to take over the terrible icy pit he'd been sent to (asking too many questions did that to an Angel he had found). But he'd found a rather clever solution to that, if he did say so himself. 

Eventually, the  _ godforsaken _ escalator reached its end, and as he stepped off of it, the Angel at the front desk gave him a rather dirty look.

As he strolled past the desk, he answered the look in kind before politely saying, "Wonderful day isn't it, Jophiel?"

The answering sputter was quite gratifying, as she was the most likely instigator in preventing his rather  _ late _ retirement. 

And even if she wasn't, well... 

She  _ had _ given him a dirty look.

***

After strolling through the never ending skyscraper in which the offices of Heaven were kept, he was, admittedly, getting  _ bored _ .

Enough to finally ask directions. 

***

Eventually, 30 minutes later and no thanks to the many angels he’d asked, he arrived at a particularly nondescript office. Which looked absolutely no different than the last time he'd been forced to step into it.

The Archangel Michael himself was sitting in a rather nice, swivel office chair, pointedly ignoring the new presence in his office.

"You," the Devil drawled, "have been ignoring me."

Michael's pen clicked, "There's no one available to take over your position, please return to your post," there was a pause, "not that it's seen much of you recently."

Cyriacus took a deep inhale through his nose. "I’m well aware. Hence, my repeated request for a replacement." This was already wearing on his last reserve nerve.

Michael's pen clicked again, and Cyriacus, who would be the devil for about 10 more seconds, sighed. 

"Then, as per my contract, signed 10 millennium ago, witnessed by Metatron and Raphael, I declare my successor."

Michael's head jerked up, and Cyriacus almost changed his mind in that split second, the temptation to make the first Archangel since Lucifer the Devil was just, tantalizing. 

"Crowley, current steward of the 9th Hell, shall take my place." 

Michael sputtered, "That's, no! That's against protocol." The Archangel looked genuinely aghast.

Cryiacus sighed, "Your protocol wasn't a clause in my contract, and you won't let me leave Hell simply because you can't be bothered to go convince some poor sod to take over." 

Michael stared at him, and Cyriacus gave him a dry look, "And while I'm at it, since my daughter's 10th birthday party is about to start, I claim my right as per being raised as an Angel after death, to return to being human and laid to my final rest."

Michael gaped, "Dau-" 

Cyriacus cut him off.

"Yes, my daughter, which you would have known had you been keeping—" he paused, "what was it you said after I signed my contract? Ah, yes, "proper tabs" on me." 

The pale face of the Archangel was probably going to be the highlight of his last visit to heaven.

Cyriacus gave him a casual tip of his head, "I'll see you in the next couple of centuries," he paused, a wicked grin crossing his face, " _ Boss. _ " With that, the former Devil walked out of the Archangel's office.

***

Cyriacus, former Angel, the 13th Devil, has officially retired.

And he has a birthday party to get to, and... a man to inform of his permanent presence for the rest of their lives.

***

  
_ Somewhere, in the depths of Hell, a demon named Crowley had begun cursing _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


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